


The Mage-Knight's Heir

by RoseGlass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Children, Arthurian, Breaking and Entering, Chamber of Secrets, Choices, Damsels in Distress, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Founders Era, Hogwarts Houses, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Lost Love, Moving In Together, Out of Character, Partner Betrayal, People Watching, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1442077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGlass/pseuds/RoseGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1000 years ago, Salazar Slytherin met Godric Gryffindor and started on the journey of a lifetime. Traveling over great seas, escaping death's clutches many times, to come to a little place in the highlands of Scotland. Rescuing fair maidens in distress, being rescued themselves, and eventually building a place where they can be safe. The story of the legendary friendship of the Founders of Hogwarts.<br/>Meanwhile...<br/>Harry makes a different call in the girl's bathroom 6th year, he decides to share a secret with the last two people anyone would expect. What if the rescue of Ginny Weasley at the end of CoS, was not the last time Harry entered or explored the secret places of Salazar Slytherin?<br/>Second chances, friendships in unlikely places, good and evil and the things in between, and the legacies left behind from long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mage-Knight's Heir

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a combination of Founders Era, and AU Hogwarts Era (6th year). They will not meet at any time, except with maybe, portraits or similar. Each chapter will be in a different time period (i.e. chapter 1: Founders Era, chapter 2: Hogwarts 1990s).  
> I would also like to start out by saying that Salazar Slytherin is a magi here (like the three kings from the Bible but with magic), I made his character as a combination of some of my favorite Slytherins and based him a lot off of Jafar...particularly the Jafar from OUaT in Wonderland, and Loki from Thor and Thor 2 (didn't get much personality from Avengers). He is also younger than some people might anticipate.  
> I hope you guys enjoy!  
> Oh, and I also don't own, thank you!

1000 years ago

It was dark and it was cold.

As if that wasn’t ominous enough, it was also damp and he could hear the scuttling of rats in the corners...and it smelled. It smelled of mildew, and sewage and rot. The rot of wood, the rot of corpses.

But it was dark and that might have been the worst thing of all.

In the dark he could see all his worst fears, all his nightmares take form. He could dream the most beautiful dream, dream of her, of the life they could have had, only to wake and know that it was only a dream. Less than dreams, they were fanciful wishes of boyhood made of naught but dust and feeble emotion that could not withstand the storm. Oh, how he hated her. Loathed her, despised all that she tempted and promised. Loved her with every breath of his being, and with every beat of his now broken heart.

How could she betray him so!

No! No, he would not think on it. Would not allow his last hours to be spent full of anger and bitterness. Even if it served her right. How could he have been so stupid?! To have believed her, believed her love for him, believed that she would not roll belly up the moment they were found out. No! Calm, peace, be calm. Losing control wasn't going to help here. Not much would, but he was nothing if not opportunistic.

He shifted, hearing the clanking iron of thick iron chains. Chains he, himself, had inscribed not so long ago with ancient runes to subdue magic, only to have them used against him. Never trust the mundane, the back-stabbing, jealous, little, horribly normal people that would never have anything so special about them. They would suffer...one day he would make them all suffer. Especially the little prince who thought so highly of himself, the golden little prince who could do no wrong. What would they all say if they knew the prince's proclivities? His sinful desires for the heathen warriors. The stupid little boy could not even keep a secret for his sister, how did he think he could keep that under lock and key?

If only he were not so filthy, he could maybe then feel remotely like doing something stupid, like attempting to escape, but what was the point? His staff was locked away, it would take months to properly replace, he was held captive with magic impeding chains, in a prison none had ever escaped from and no one likely ever would. That was without saying that he was wanted for adultery, for impugning the honor of the royal family, unlawful seduction of a betrothed woman of nobility, bedding a woman of a higher social caste, for treason of the highest order and if he were to escape would likely be hunted down by the royal dogs or the sphinx, and if not torn apart by them, would be fed to the crocodiles. And he was filthy, covered in grime and unspeakable things, had not even been allowed near a bucket of water in days. This is what unwavering loyalty and a pretty face got him. Absolutely nothing.

Yes, life was certainly on the up and up. The only thing left was his impending execution. Lovely. He wondered how they were going to do it. Death under the whip, tied to a post and flogged until he bled out; hung by the neck until he suffocated and his bowels were loosed; or death by a complete severance of his appendages from his body, likely starting with the offending unspeakable places?

Knowing the sadistic nature of the Sultan to his enemies, it was likely that last one.

He had been here for over a week, measured by the rare cups of water and the singular meal of the day. He had seen the Prince- who was once his friend and only political rival, the Captain of the Guard- who lusted after the princess himself, and the Keeper of Keys who locked him in these damn chains.

He pulled hard on them, noticing only in the last moment the soft emerald light escaping from his raw, exposed skin.

Interesting, apparently a design flaw. Magic still flows to and from the body, but is not controllable by the magician. He was starting to feel separate from his body. He didn’t think he had ever felt so weak, so useless. What was the point of magic if it couldn’t break him free? He supposed that was the purpose of logic and mundane skills...and the chains.

He had not felt so stupid, so used, so incapable ever. Not even when he was a little boy, pickpocketing and doing simple magicks for a little bit of money or food for his little brother.

A jangling sound at the door. Only the Keeper of Keys had the keys to open the doors in the palace dungeons. Particularly of those sentenced to an eventual death, as he was.

He kept his head down as the door opened, remembering how the light of the torches would burn his eyes after so long without it.

“A new friend for you Sorcerer, an infidel for the ifrit*.” The fat jailer tossed a red garbed man into the filthy cell the turned away and took the light with him. (a.n. infidel- basically a pagan/ foreign person that does not believe in Muhammad the Prophet, ifrit- a demon.)

He heard the new man shuffle around, his hands were likely bound. From the barest glimpse, he was able to see the man was as big as any of the guards, had light hair- unlike anything he had ever seen before, and muscular. Clearly a fool warrior, likely an insurgent or rebellious slave from a recent conquest in the north. Maybe he tried to harm one of the Sultan's family? Or was too friendly with a member of the Royal Harems?  

A gruff voice spoke, intruding on his thoughts, “Do you speak English? Franc? Latin?”

 

He was clearly foreign, from some far off place he once dreamed of traveling to. **  
**

He continued speaking in Latin, “I’m sorry I do not speak Moorish, but my name is Godric, I hail from the glens of Wessex* in Briton. I felt your magic halfway across the city as I traveled to the palace in search of a teacher.” **  
**

He was not young enough to be new to the arcane arts. Perhaps he was like himself, always expanding his repertoire.

“I do not speak English well, but my Latin is passable. I am called Salazar the Snake-Charmer. While I am pleased for company, I fear we do not have much time to be acquainted.”

“Why do you say that, my friend?”

“Because if you are in here, then you have done something unforgivable and will die on the morrow, as will I.”

Salazar felt Godric try to sit closer to him. He tried not to shy away from the first kind human contact in so long.

“What makes you say that we will die?”

He snorted, “We are locked in a cell with magic impeding chains, a prison where no one has ever escaped, and you have been locked in with a man charged with treason of the highest order. I will eat my own hand if you haven’t offended someone or done something supremely stupid in the last few days to earn your stay here. So yes, we are going to die.”

 

 

A pregnant pause filled the air.

 

 

"I did try to ask a pretty lady for directions, then got into a fight with Palace guards, then called the King an idiot to his face."

Salazar would just bet that the "pretty lady" was the wife of a nobleman or an important concubine. Women were nothing but trouble.

 

"So," Godric began. "You are the great sorcerer so many have spoken of? The town is quite anxious about your death, you know."

 

He sighed, "I was the great sorcerer of these lands, have been since my 12th year, when I saved one of the princes from a terrible curse...So many years of loyalty, I do one thing wrong, one thing from the heart, and this is the thanks I receive. Trapped in a dungeon of my own design, left to rot and now I face torture and execution on the morrow."

 

Salazar could practically feel the other man smirking in the dark.

“What is it? I can feel you being smug over there.”

“Well,” the Saxon began, “while the people here know that you are a sorcerer, they are most unfamiliar with this foreigner, and some of the guards may have been a bit...confunded.”

Salazar’s eyes widened in the pitch black, hardly believing what he was putting together in his head.

“So while you have been clapped in chains that prevent your abilities, interesting invention, I am in rope bonds. And you may have no weapons, but...well, confused and confounded guards are not so good at searching prisoners.”

Salazar heard a sawing sound then, like something cutting through thick rope.

A few minutes later hands groped at his wrists searching for the lock.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you out of these irons.”

“...Why?” And he seemed so utterly confused, as though he couldn’t understand why a stranger would do anything to help him.

A snapping sound and the chains fell from his rubbed-raw wrists, then his ankles.

“Well, time to go then.” Godric nonchalantly said, as though he were not attempting the impossible, as though escaping certain death were an everyday occurrence.

Godric hoisted Salazar up, keeping a gentle hold on the weakened sorcerer.  He was still so confused.

“...Why?”

“How about we leave the whys and wherefores to later when we aren’t escaping from an impenetrable citadel, hmm?”

Well, who could argue with that logic, Salazar thought sardonically to himself.

Godric used the stolen keyring to open the cell door and they stepped into the light. Salazar wondered if he could trust this man, then he realized that he didn't care as long as he didn't have to die like a worthless animal.

 

 

Damn him, if he wasn't going to owe the foreign wizard a debt of life for this. 

 

 

Salazar may not have gifts of foresight, but he was gifted with a certain amount of perception and he had a feeling. It was tingly, like the danger you sense before a sandstorm telling you to find shelter. That was exactly what this great hulking man was, a sand devil, unexpected and full of danger and terrifying to live through, but what an experience. That was how Godric Gryffindor was going to be to Salazar Slytherin's life from now on, changing it like it was an everyday experience.

 

Thus began the journey, thus it shall continue.

 

****  


**Author's Note:**

> Remember to Kudos if you want Slytherin and Gryffindor to make it out of prison...alive. First reviewer (with actual input) will have the next chapter dedicated to them!


End file.
